It was evident that the Daoist had quite a few grievances against the current dynasty.
Lu Zhao also understood that the old Daoist did not want nothing from him. The most apparent friction lay in their views and values, which was perhaps why the old man had not taken him as an apprentice.
He explained, "Our dynasty provides only nine years of compulsory education, after which one must test in on one's own, and life-force development lasts only six years. I earned my admission into Dijing University through my own exams, which is why my education seems decent in Daoist's eyes, but that is hardly the average standard."
The old Daoist understood the concept of compulsory education and said, "Then since you passed the exams, layman has clearly been treated differently."
Lu Zhao nodded. "Naturally it was equal: we stood on the same platform, and that was enough."
The old Daoist shook his head. "In this poor Daoist's eyes, it was not equal."
Lu Zhao retorted, "Then could the Zhu Ming dynasty achieve that? Among the imperial scholars of the same cohort, were official posts appointed purely on rank? Did gaining an imperial degree guarantee entering officialdom as an official?"
The old Daoist was somewhat choked by the retort, unable to answer for a moment.
Fairness was not an invention of the modern era; it had existed as far back as the Xia and Shang dynasties. Any ruling apparatus was bound to pursue the "fairness of its era," or else it could not survive.
Every dynasty had its own "fairness," yet more often than not, failed to achieve it.
He fell silent for a while before slowly speaking: "My Great Ming could not achieve it, but the new dynasty cannot achieve it either. Does that not prove both dynasties are the same?"
This was sophistry from the old Daoist, and sophistry was not Lu Zhao's strong suit.
Debates had often taken place in Dijing—debates on the divide between Huaxia and barbarians, debates on equality between Huaxia and barbarians.
Once, spanning ninety thousand li from the Eastern Ocean beyond the pass to the distant Central Sea, it had been a nation of ten thousand realms at the height of its prosperity. Now reduced to humanity's final enclave, all that remained was the mutual infighting of people of different identities, ethnic groups, and cultures.
The difference was only a span of ten years, yet for many, it felt like yesterday.
The prevailing system was the optimal solution under an environment of high-pressure survival. Humanity had already lost the right to expand its frontiers; three billion people could only scratch a living from the soil of one capital and thirteen circuits.
Before he stood high enough to decide the course of direction, he was a soldier.
Where Lu Zhao and the old Daoist clashed was the clash between the governing philosophies of two eras.
"I have never asserted that the Federation is absolute in its fairness. Yet comparing across history, who could ever, without relying on clan pedigrees or patronage from noble benefactors, institutionally allow commoners to rise into the Imperial Academy?"
"The new dynasty can, even if it is only a few dozen individuals each year."
The old Daoist's expression remained placid, yet a ripple of displeasure stirred in his heart.
The young man's stubborn demeanor reminded him of someone—someone named Hai Rui.
He said, "Even if this injustice is inflicted upon your own person?"
"The state raised me; it has not treated me unjustly," Lu Zhao shook his head. "It is merely that certain individuals have harmed me. One day, I will strike back."
The old Daoist's cadence hastened slightly, his displeasure evident in his voice: "They occupy high stations. How can you, a mere commoner, strike back?"
"The high seat is something I can sit in, too!"
His clear voice echoed within the Primordial realm.
The old Daoist froze slightly, and a ripple finally disturbed the calm on his face.
His gaze fixed deeply upon Lu Zhao. In that look, there was both the strangeness of having his sophistry pierced and the bewilderment of an ancient soul facing the crushing advance of time's colossal wheel.
The youth before him was unlike anyone the old Daoist had ever encountered. In his era, no one had ever dared say "the high seat is mine to take."
He was not driven by foolish loyalty, nor was he Hai Rui.
Silence lingered in the Taoist temple for a long time.
Lu Zhao looked at the silent old Daoist, thinking he had probably bungled things again.
Yet he had no regrets.
The prerequisite for meeting the old Daoist had been braving the psychic tsunami, and the prerequisite for gaining admission to Dijing University had been his own relentless effort.
He did not need to roll over like a lapdog to expose his belly, hoping to trade servility for benefits.
The debt of instruction could be repaid in other ways.
The old Daoist finally moved.
He slowly raised his head, no anger in his eyes, but rather a soft sigh.
"Layman's Dao heart is resolute. This poor Daoist will not force it."
Lu Zhao's heart eased, and he immediately straightened with solemnity: "Lu Zhao will carve Daoist's grace of instruction into his heart and will do his utmost to repay it."
"This poor Daoist did not mean that." The old Daoist shook his head gently, a scrutinizing look entering his eyes.
"Though our philosophies do not align, making us ill-suited to be master and disciple, there are always exceptions to everything. Those with transcendent talent should receive preferential treatment, and I deem you worthy..."
He paused, his tone no longer the distant, polite kindness.
"This poor Daoist asks you: are you willing to bow to me as your teacher?"
This kid was undoubtedly vexing, yet often it was precisely such a person who was suited to be a successor.
Lu Zhao nodded without hesitation, "Daoist has already bestowed the grace of instruction upon me. It is only right that I take you as my master."
"Do not be so hasty to agree. I have two conditions."
"Please speak, Daoist."
"First, this poor Daoist requires Fate Bones." The old Daoist held up a finger. "One every three months, regardless of category, grade, or the strength of its divine power."
Lu Zhao was instantly troubled.
He was not surprised that the old Daoist needed Fate Bones; if he had not needed them, he would not have dropped hints before.
However, Fate Bones were state-controlled items. Theoretically, those below the moderate grade could be purchased. The lowest tier of tiny divine powers only required registration to buy at official franchise shops.
The average price was around ten thousand, with no quantity limit.
There were also cheaper black-market "beast bones"—bones stripped from demon beasts—with average prices ranging in the thousands.
The divine powers granted by these Fate Bones were so weak that they could barely make the tip of a hair tremble, or produce no reaction at all.
Lu Zhao could easily exploit such loopholes, yet he chose to speak plainly: "Not all Fate Bones are like the one I brought in the other day. Many are useless. Would those count as well?"
"They count."
The old Daoist's answer was somewhat unexpected. Stroking his beard, he smiled and said, "The tuition gift for apprenticeship lies in the intent. This poor Daoist is taking a disciple, not conducting commerce.
"Do you know why I did not lightly bring up apprenticeship before? This is the difference between ancient and modern. The new dynasty has popularized education, seemingly treating teachers as no different from neighborhood private school tutors—mere commercial transactions."
Hearing this, Lu Zhao felt a touch of embarrassment.
This truly was the difference between ancient and modern times, something he had unconsciously overlooked before.
Now that the old Daoist treated him with sincerity, he could not resort to trickery either.
The old Daoist continued, "Second, before you are capable of constructing your own inner landscape, you may address me only as Teacher, not yet as Master.
"These are all of this poor Daoist's requirements."
Lu Zhao rose from the rush cushion, knelt on both knees before the old Daoist, and touched his forehead to the ground, saying, "Disciple Lu Zhao greets Teacher."
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Three resounding kowtows echoed crisply within the spacious Taoist temple.
"Good."
A smile surfaced on the old Daoist's face. With a gentle flick of his sleeve, a soft yet irresistible invisible force steadily lifted Lu Zhao up.
"Sit back down. As your teacher, I shall impart your first lesson."
Lu Zhao rose and returned to his seat. Before his bottom even settled, a calm voice drifted over languidly.
"The lineages of cultivation in this world, passed down over millennia, are nothing more than the dual cultivation of nature and life. The path of life cultivation is relatively straightforward, relying largely on the strength of external objects, elixirs, and nourishment; by accumulating small steps, one can always travel a thousand li."
The old Daoist looked at Lu Zhao, shedding his former amiability, his brows furrowed in deep dissatisfaction. "Yet you—eating your fill all day long without setting your mind to work—how difficult it shall be!"
The corners of Lu Zhao's mouth twitched. This was the first time anyone had scolded him for not working hard enough; his teacher was rather petty indeed.
He nodded like a chick pecking at rice and asked, "Teacher, what would count as not idling away one's days?"
The old Daoist answered, "Cultivating the Dao is inherently defying heaven while acting in accord with heaven. Those who act in accord with heaven achieve success naturally as water flows into a canal; those who defy heaven scale ridges to gaze at peaks, and summit peaks to behold the sacred mountains.
"Acting in accord with heaven you have accomplished, yet defying heaven you have not done in the slightest. Were you satisfied just taking what was rightfully yours?"
These words struck like a clap of thunder, instantly aligning Lu Zhao's scattered thoughts.
Chapter 33